One Night In Paris
by tromana
Summary: When the Doctor and Sarah are reliving old memories in Paris, neither of them expect to meet one another there.


**Title:** One Night In Paris  
><strong>Author:<strong> **tromana**  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Ten/Sarah Jane  
><strong>Summary:<strong> When the Doctor and Sarah are reliving old memories in Paris, neither of them expect to meet one another there.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not mine.  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Written for alternativerocker as a part of the Holiday Fics challenge. Assumes familiarity with the Fourth Doctor story 'City of Death'.

He loved Paris.

Always had done, and he suspected, always will.

It held memories for him. Good ones, at that. Holding hands with a loved one, running, running. The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre…

Briefly, he wondered if they'd discovered whether or not the Mona Lisa had 'This Is A Fake' enscribed underneath it. And if they had, what they'd done to keep that revelation covered up. The Doctor knew the painting had been scanned and photographed and studied hundreds of times since the 1970s, so really, logic dictated that it must have been known by now.

Then again, how could it have been a fake when it was painted by old Leo himself? It had been his fault that it was there in the first place. He'd been the one to put it there.

To thwart old Scaroth's plans…

Maybe he should go visit old Leo again, see if he could rustle up another copy. It wouldn't require too much effort to do that. Would it?

He turned around, smiling.

Sarah Jane Smith held up a hand and waved slightly. Now he wasn't expecting _her_ to be there at all.

xxx

Sarah loved Paris, too. There was something so refined about the place, but not at the same time. It was hard to describe, but intoxicating at the same time.

Generally, she avoided the touristy traps. Too ostentatious, too loud. They missed the entire point of what Paris, and indeed, the rest of France was about. Didn't have its strange mix of quaintness and refinery that the city really had.

Apart from the Louvre that was. She'd always loved that place.

The last time she was here, she'd brought Luke to the museum. Whilst he undoubtedly had a brilliant mind, his conception had failed to bring about an appreciation for artistry and creativity. In some ways, bless him, he was a little emotionally stunted. It didn't mean she loved her son any less, of course not.

It just meant that she had to guide him a little more.

But now he was away at University, with K9 in tow. Now, she was left chasing ghosts and memories.

And that was why she was here.

The last person she'd expected to run into here was the Doctor.

xxx

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Doctor?"

"Oh my Sarah Jane, always questioning things."

The Doctor beamed as he pulled a lever on the TARDIS console. He knew Sarah didn't appreciate the ever so slight patronizing undertones, but sometimes, he just couldn't help it. It was something about humans that brought it out of him. Sometimes, they made him feel like a proud parent. Especially when he'd watched them bloom and grow, as he had Sarah Jane Smith.

"Yes but this," she said, jabbing the console with one finger, "is the TARDIS. I know just how prone she is to go wrong."

He frowned. He never liked it when people offended his TARDIS. As protective and precious as he was about humans, especially ones he liked, his time and space machine was another matter entirely. Humans (and other humanoids) came and went. The TARDIS, she was with him faithfully, wherever he went and whatever he did.

They landed and Sarah was still wearing her skeptical expression. Ignoring it, the Doctor threw the doors open in a flourish.

"Sarah Jane Smith, welcome to…"

xxx

"This doesn't look like Leonardo Da Vinci's workshop," she sniffed. "It's the middle of a forest."

"Ah, so we may have overshot a little."

"That's what they all say," Sarah remarked, leaning up against the doorframe. "I keep trying to tell you that the TARDIS is…"

"The old girl is perfectly reliable," he retorted as he stomped around in the leaves, trying to get his bearings. "_Perfectly_. It's just sometimes, she has ideas of her own."

"That much is obvious."

Sarah stayed put as the Doctor tried to come to a decision. Either the time was wrong, or the location, or more likely, both. It was just that the Doctor's chauvinistic side refused to allow him to admit to the mistake. She knew, better than most, just how unreliable the TARDIS could be. She'd spent years travelling with him, seeing other worlds and other times. Most of which had been completely unintentional.

Sometimes, she missed her Doctor. This one may have been young and admittedly, very easy on the eye, but he seemed less alien somehow. More human, more willing to connect.

In fact, the only similarities she saw between him then and now were his stubbornness, his superiority complex and of course, his occasional slights towards her species.

Still, once he declared that they were indeed in the wrong time zone, she was more than happy to leave.

It was, after all, getting a little cold.

xxx

It took several more attempts to get to Da Vinci's workshop.

The Doctor continued to pretend that he didn't hear Sarah's comments about the TARDIS and his driving capabilities during the trip. She probably deserved it, after how he treated her (sometimes). Besides, he could have visited her more, back in the day.

Could have spent more time seeing how his old companions were and what they were doing in general.

Still, it was better late than never. He was certainly making up for lost time now, at any rate.

When Sarah finally emerged to see Leonardo Da Vinci's workspace, circa the 1600s, he couldn't even pretend to wipe the look of delight off his face.

After all, even after years of time travel and amazing experiences, even she could still be overawed by something as simple as _art_.

xxx

Sarah ignored the Doctor bartering with Da Vinci about the Mona Lisa. She wanted to talk to the man, of course she did. How many people from her time could claim to have done that? But right now, he was distracted and clearly, he and the Doctor were friends (of sorts) too.

Sometimes, having a time traveller for a friend really made you look at things different. Just how many past (and future) greats had the Doctor struck up a friendship with? She'd always known that he'd had a lot of enemies, that much was obvious. Sometimes, it was hard to remember that he would actually have friends too, and probably more so than the enemies he'd also acquired.

After all, she had spent her life feeling like nobody else could match up to him. There was a reason she was so attached.

And the same must have applied to countless other people too.

Silently, she indulged in the art. She'd always loved Da Vinci's work and here it was, freshly painted. Some, barely started, others nearly completed. Right now, it wasn't a remnant of the past, something spectacular that had survived through the ages. It was the present, now.

It was almost alive. Or at least, as alive as art could get.

Then again, with the Doctor around…

xxx

They got to watch as (yet another copy of) the Mona Lisa took shape.

The Doctor grew almost protective of Sarah during the process. Though she wasn't a slight, young thing, old Leo still had an appreciation for her. It didn't go unnoticed that he had his eyes on Sarah Jane Smith as he (re)painted the famous sfumato smile of Mona Lisa.

Sarah, however, was practically enchanted by it all. She seemed to like the fact that she had gone somewhere with him and no aliens had interrupted the journey. Watching one of the great artists, one that was revered in her time, seemed to inspire her no end. This was why travelling with somebody was always better. It was why he loathed being alone.

It still hurt that Martha left so abruptly. It hurt even more knowing that Astrid, a girl he barely knew, had sacrificed herself just hours after meeting him.

Every time somebody left, they left a hole in his heart. Susan, Jamie, Jo, Leela, Romana, Adric, Nyssa, Peri, Ace, Charley, Rose. All of them and so many more. It was no wonder he felt the weight of the universe resting on his shoulders.

And it was no wonder that he felt an incredible amount of joy at connecting with an old friend and injecting a little happiness into her life once more.

Still, he was more than a little relieved when he finally managed to get Sarah away from Leo.

And even happier still when the TARDIS was willing to play ball with him and they could deliver the newly painted copy of the Mona Lisa to the Louvre, replacing the once that had been ruined with 'This Is A Fake' daubed underneath it in marker pen.

Besides, he knew she needed to get home sooner or later. She had a family, a life now. Sarah couldn't just thinking about herself and what she wanted anymore.

And there were always more sights for him to see, more things for him to do. He'd find somebody else, sooner or later.

Or they'd find him. They usually did.

xxx

"I can't keep this," Sarah said, staring at the painting in her hands.

It was a copy of the Mona Lisa. One of only two in existence. The Doctor had told her that there had been five other copies, but they'd been destroyed in an explosion in the 1970s. After she'd left him. When he'd been travelling with another Time Lord. They'd spent a considerable time with Da Vinci, so they'd had more than enough time for him to do so.

But he insisted. Everyone would believe it was just a very convincing fake, especially if it were ever studied extensively. And there was a space in her dining room where it would fit just perfectly.

Besides, the Doctor was right. What better souvenir for her to take home from her holiday in Paris than a copy of the Mona Lisa?

It was a beautiful painting. And she had liked Leonardo Da Vinci, even if he had been a bit leery on occasion.

And on top of all that, she was still recovering from the faint shock of the Doctor getting her back to the right time and place at all in just the one attempt.

"What is the date, anyway?"

He told her.

Or maybe not, then. It had been a fortnight. They'd been away for a fortnight. He'd promised her that it would have been just one night of her stay in Paris.

Instead, he'd taken up the whole two weeks and whisked her off to the past (and goodness knew where else).

So much for one night in Paris, then.


End file.
